


Five times Ethan almost gave his secret away, and one time something else did it for him

by Closeted_Bookworm



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, Minor Injuries, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Secrets, Sleepovers, Unus Annus, house fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closeted_Bookworm/pseuds/Closeted_Bookworm
Summary: Mark is pretty sure that Ethan is hiding something, and the odd occurrences are stacking up. He wants to find out what's going on, but once he does, he wishes it had happened differently...
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 172





	Five times Ethan almost gave his secret away, and one time something else did it for him

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the suggestion for an Unus Annus sleepover on Reddit, so I took the concept for a spin.

-1-  
(six days before)

Have you ever had one of those feelings, where you know something is off about someone, but you’re never quite able to place what’s so wrong about it? Maybe it’s a nervous tic they have, or a specific habit, or the way they react to something, or pretty much anything, really. It’s normal enough that you don’t want to bring it up, and it’s not really annoying, only a bit strange. You can’t place why it rubs you the wrong way, but it does.

That’s the way Mark was feeling about Ethan. He’d never noticed anything weird before; it had just started happening that week. He’d been answering questions just a little too slowly, spacing out just a little too often, and stuttering just a little more frequently than usual. He wasn’t even really sure what had first triggered his suspicions, but his friend had been acting off for the past few days, and he wanted to find out why. He was hesitant to ask about it, though. It was probably nothing, if he was honest with himself. Maybe Ethan had more on his plate than usual, or was behind on sleep. Personally, he was more easily distracted when he was sleep deprived; why should Ethan be any different?

Looking over at the man next to him as they set up for their newest Unus Annus video, he tried to reassure himself that it wasn’t important. He didn’t want to pry, and he trusted Ethan to tell him if anything was seriously wrong. 

Their current exploit was a journey into the wonderful world of electronics. Amy had bought them some kits covering the basics of circuits and currents, chock-full of tiny snap-together parts and projects geared towards kids (or especially childish adults) that they could play with. Even though he was hamming up his silliness for the camera, the pieces were legitimately fascinating. It was genuinely interesting trying to get a circuit to run at maximum efficiency, or run both a fan and a lightbulb with unequal amounts of power, or reverse the polarity to see how it would affect the electronics. It was the most fun he’d had recording a video all week. 

Ethan, however, seemed strangely hesitant to dig into everything the kits had to offer. He mostly commentated on what Mark was doing, kidding around and playfully sabotaging his projects by stealing the pieces he needed. For all intents and purposes, it was completely normal behavior for him, but Mark didn’t miss the way he jumped like he was burned when his hand brushed the connected circuitry. Was he afraid of the electricity? These kits were designed for kids, there was no way they’d shock someone unless seriously tampered with. 

That gave him a great idea for the end of the video. 

“Hey, pretend to electrocute me with the circuit for the outro,” he told Ethan, holding out the completed contraption to his surprised friend. 

“What?” Ethan looked as though Mark had just tried to hand him a live bomb, even though all it did was power a lightbulb and a tiny speaker that played “Happy Birthday.” 

“Turn it on and act like you're tazing me or something, we can add effects in post,” he explained. 

“Okay,” he replied, though Mark could tell he was still nervous for whatever reason. He seemed fidgety, though that also wasn’t unusual. 

“It’s not a snake, it won’t bite you,” he scoffed jokingly. 

Ethan nodded and laughed tightly, taking the device. As he touched the metal pieces, a few sparks jumped from the circuit and the little lightbulb burst with a pop. He yelped and dropped the thing like hot coal, Mark barely catching it before it smashed to the floor. Ethan was breathing fast, eyes wide and startled. Mark gingerly set the kit down on the coffee table, giving it the side eye as he asked Amy to grab the dustpan for the shards of glass from the lightbulb. He glanced over at Ethan, who looked a little shell-shocked and hadn’t moved. 

“You okay?”

Ethan seemed to snap out of his daze. “Yeah, just got startled.” He giggled nervously. “How about a real near death experience for the outro?”

Mark laughed, shaking off the incident. “Yeah, it nearly skewered my brain.” He reached forward and stopped the camera, trying not to move his feet in case he stepped on a sliver of glass. He wasn’t going to spend twenty minutes trying to dig a shard out of his foot if he could help it. “We can just cut the video there. Why’d that happen anyways?”

“Beats me. I know as much about electronics as you do. Scratch that, I probably know less.”

“It was like it got a surge of power or something. It wasn’t turned on, though. The switch must’ve malfunctioned.”

Ethan made a noise of agreement, twisting his hands in his lap, and Mark wondered why he appeared to be just as anxious as he was before. He looked like he wanted to say something else or contradict Mark’s assessment, but what else could it be except a factory defect? It was just a faulty switch in a cheap children’s set. 

His train of thought was derailed as Amy returned with the broom and dustpan and they carefully swept up the minuscule pieces of glass, stripping off their socks in case some had worked its way into the knitted threads. They moved onto the next video, the burnt out circuit placed in the trash and quickly forgotten.

-2-  
(a few hours later)

Mark had walked in on many strange things over the years, especially for Unus Annus (the mummifying video jumped to his mind), but this was a new one even for him. He’d gone out to grab food midway through filming for the day, and come back to Ethan bent into a pretzel on the couch, panting with exertion and red in the face. His left foot was wedged behind his head, so far back that it didn’t make sense to Mark’s eyes. How was he not in extreme pain? He set the takeout down on the table and stared in amazement as Ethan waved sheepishly.

“Hi, Mark…” he said guiltily.

“What did you do to yourself?” he asked in a mixture of confusion and awe, walking over to his friend. “And why?”

“Not really sure, but Amy went out to get something we forgot to buy and I’m kind of… stuck.” 

“What do you mean you’re stuck?”

“Like I can’t move my leg. Can you just help me out a little?”

Mark shook his head and wrapped his hands around Ethan’s left ankle, trying to get it free without bending it further than it had gone already. Strangely, it didn’t seem like it was Ethan’s head or back keeping it in place. It was more like the joint itself had frozen. It took some effort to get it to move, but after some wiggling it popped free with a noise he was fairly certain joints were not supposed to make. Ethan sighed in relief as his leg returned to a normal position, massaging his thigh and knee. 

“Thanks.”

“No sweat. Geez, I know you were a gymnast, but maybe you should’ve been a contortionist. That range of motion is unnatural. Why were you sticking your foot behind your head anyway?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to see if I still could?”

“Your complete and utter lack of a reasonable attention span never ceases to amaze me.” Mark told him with a tinge of playful exasperation, walking back over to the table and grabbing their meals. Ethan grinned.

“Ooh, good line. Should’ve saved it for a video.”

“Eh, plenty more rattling around up here.” He tapped the side of his head as he sat down on the couch, holding out Ethan’s food. “I never got to do a roast video of you, after all.”

“Aww, do you hate me that much?” Ethan bantered, taking the offered meal. “I’m holding back, you know.”

“Oh, heaven help us if the full unbridled might of the terrible EEF is ever unleashed upon this world,” Mark laughed as they dug in. “You sure your leg’s alright? It made a disturbing noise when I got it unstuck.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Ethan reassured him. “Doesn’t hurt at all.”

But Mark noticed when he kept rubbing the same joint that had gotten stuck, even an hour later. Mark had developed a sense over the years for when Ethan was keeping something from him, and his radar was flashing. It was just a leg ache, though. Not a big deal.

-3-  
(four days before)

“How do you do it, Eth?” Mark asked, plopping down next to Ethan on the couch, where he was scrolling through Twitter.

“Mmm?” he hummed, looking up in surprise. “Do what?”

“Your phone. It’s always charged. I swear I’ve never seen it drop below ninety percent,” Mark replied, pointing at the percentage on his friend’s screen. Sure enough, it was at 93%, despite not being plugged in for an hour or more. 

“Oh.” Ethan chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Really good battery, I guess.”

“But you have the same model of phone that I do, and mine doesn’t last nearly that long.”

“I replaced the battery in mine a while ago,” he said hurriedly. “It’s much better now. It really lasts all day, not just eight hours or something.”

He whistled in appreciation. “What’s the name of it? Maybe I should get mine switched out too.”

Ethan seemed to be getting flustered. “I don’t remember.”

Mark gave him a questioning look. “That’s all right. Why’re you worked up?”

His friend looked determinedly back at his phone screen. “No reason. Just stressed.”

His radar was going off again. Ethan was hiding something. He didn’t want to press, though. He was clearly uncomfortable. Maybe he’d gotten the battery from a sketchy site?

He decided to drop the issue. No point in picking a fight, even if his friend’s phone was charged to 96% fifteen minutes later, despite the charging cord sitting abandoned and unused in the wall.

-4-  
(three days before)

The idea of an Unus Annus sleepover was a highly requested one among fans. Mark had suggested it several times, but Ethan had been curiously resistant to the idea of spending the night. Amy had been a big advocate for the idea, pointing out all of the stereotypical teen stuff they could do together, like playing Kiss Marry Kill or giving each other makeovers. Ethan had tried using the argument that they had already done a lot of that stuff for videos, but that could only hold up for so long with both of them repeatedly bringing it up.

They’d had to do a lot of convincing, but eventually he gave in, as long as they went to bed at a semi-reasonable hour and didn’t involve Sharpies if they pulled pranks on each other. They planned it for that weekend, and Ethan soon got swept up in Mark’s infectious excitement as they picked stuff to do. 

“We could probably get a couple videos out of this,” Mark pointed out when they’d compiled a fairly large list of things to do. “Film the night-of stuff for one video, and the morning afterwards could be a separate one where we try and outdo each other making breakfast or something.”

Ethan nodded in agreement. “Then we release them on consecutive days so it stays chronological.” 

“Ooh, you know what would be cool?” Amy interjected. “We could set up a camera to film a timelapse of you two sleeping, then use it for transitions or overlay the ticking clock on top of the sped-up footage.”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Mark said, typing the idea into his phone. “We’ve just got to remember to plug in the camera so the battery doesn’t die at three in the morning.”

Ethan was fidgeting in his seat. “Be right back,” he told the others, getting up and walking off in the direction of the bathroom while the other two kept planning.

The couple brainstormed for another ten minutes or so, and he suddenly realized how long it had been since Ethan left. He stuck his head out of the door of the kitchen and called down the hallway.

“Eth, you good in there? You’ve been a while.”

There was a moment of silence that stretched on just a little too long.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’ll be out in a minute!” his voice sounded high and strained, and Mark’s brow knit together with worry. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just give me a second!”

He sat back down at the table, hoping he was all right. Ten minutes was kind of a long time already, and yet it was another five before Ethan rejoined them. He apologized profusely and threw himself back into the discussion, ignoring Mark’s questioning glance. He noticed that his friend’s hands were shaking slightly, and he kept rubbing his eyes. 

He confronted him outright as he was leaving.

“Are you really all right?” he asked as Ethan pulled his shoes on and fumbled with the laces. His left hand didn’t seem to be following the instructions his brain was giving it. “You were in there for a long time.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just forget about it, okay?” he responded, almost pleadingly. He looked up, and Mark noticed with a start that one pupil was much more dilated than the other.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” he asked in shock. Ethan immediately averted his gaze, looking very hard at his untied shoes.

“Nothing,” he stammered. He stood up quickly and tried to rush out the door, but Mark caught his hand, and he stopped. 

“If something’s wrong, I want to help,” he told his friend. “Are you sick?”

“No. It’s nothing, I promise. Really.” He still wouldn’t meet Mark’s eyes. The little radar that had been beeping in his mind all week was gradually intensifying. Nevertheless, he still opened the door. 

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Ethan gave a tiny nod and hurried out the door, shoelaces still undone. “See you in a couple days for the sleepover!” he called over his shoulder, almost tripping over his own feet. Mark halfheartedly waved in return, hoping that Ethan really was okay.

-5-  
(four hours before)

The sleepover was a blast. They had an elaborate pillow war staged in the living room, did each other's nails, talked in exaggerated French accents for nearly a half hour, and watched a new horror movie that had just come out. They obviously couldn’t show the actual movie for the video, but they filmed their faces and planned on tallying how many times each of them jumped at the scares. Given their careers, they were definitely more jaded than the majority of their viewers when it came to the jumpscare department, but there was still a lot of flinching and even a couple of yelps. Mark was sure he’d won, but it was fun anyways.

The last thing on the agenda for the night was to rebuild the fort in Mark’s recording room. They spent at least twenty minutes squabbling over a redesign; Mark argued for the structural support chairs provided and Ethan swore that the hat stand that normally sat in the entryway was obviously the superior choice to hold up the roof. Eventually, both types of furniture ended up being used, since they underestimated just how much room they would need to add for two grown men to sleep comfortably in a blanket fort without being right on top of each other. 

After a half hour of wrestling with the blankets and what felt like two thousand clothespins, they finally got a functional arrangement worked out. They piled all the spare blankets they could find on the floor of the fort. Ethan insisted on sleeping closer to the door, and Mark let him have the spot, not caring much one way or the other. They filmed a quick outro of sorts for the video, working with the assumption they’d divide the night in two during editing, then set about getting ready for bed. Ethan ran downstairs to get the bag of toiletries he’d left in the living room, and Mark got the timelapse camera set up and hit record while he was waiting for him to get back, carefully balancing it on the edge of his desk so both of them could be seen in the fort without the angle being too awkward. 

Ethan walked back in as he was brushing his teeth, and they got ready in companionable silence. He seemed much more chipper than when they’d parted a few days prior, and Mark hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary all night. 

That changed, though, when they actually laid down to go to sleep. Ethan pulled an electric blanket out of his duffel bag and went to plug it into the wall. 

“It’s July. It was 95 degrees outside today. Why do you want an electric blanket?” Mark asked skeptically. 

“I get cold really easily,” Ethan said defensively. “I can’t sleep without it.”

“As long as I’m not overheating because of it.”

“It won’t be on a high setting, don’t worry.”

“Suit yourself, then.”

“Thanks.”

They laid down in the fort, adjusting a little so the camera could see them, and tried to fall asleep. Mark rolled over and faced the wall, wishing they’d put down more blankets as his shoulder blade let him know there was definitely concrete under the carpet. He could hear Ethan tossing and turning next to him. He guessed he was having trouble getting comfortable too. He closed his eyes and tried to even his breathing, hoping if he pretended to be asleep for long enough his body would get the message. He heard Ethan roll over onto his side so that he was facing Mark, and a corner of the electric blanket brushed his arm. However, it wasn’t warm. Did he turn it off?

“Mark?” Ethan whispered.

“Mmm?”

“Just wondering if you were still awake.”

“M’kay. M’not. Is the blanket on?”

“Yeah.”

Was he lying about that? It wasn’t heating up at all. If anything, it was colder than his own blanket. Why wasn’t he telling the truth? Should he confront him about it?

Mark laid in silence for a while longer, listening to the rustling from the man next to him as he shifted, obviously still awake too. Eventually, Ethan asked again.

“Mark? You awake?”

This time he laid as still as possible, not responding. Maybe if he ignored him they both could go to sleep. He’d ask him about the blanket in the morning. 

He felt a light tap on his arm, but he still didn’t move. It was too late at night for this. He was tired, and he was going to sleep, if his body would ever decide to agree with his brain on that front. Curse the hard floor beneath him. Ethan was still moving around, and he wished he would just pick a position and go to sleep so they could both get some rest. It sounded like he was rearranging the placement of every blanket in the bed.

A soft click reached his ears. What was that? It sounded like the noise you make when you plug a USB into a computer. He heard a low humming noise coming from beside him. It must be the blanket. He wanted to roll over and look, but it sounded like Ethan was finally settling down, and he didn’t want to disturb him. After several long minutes of silence passed, he risked a peek. 

Ethan was fast asleep on his back, the electric blanket discarded to one side. It didn’t look like it was plugged in anymore, though. The cord instead was wrapped awkwardly around Ethan, the end disappearing somewhere under his back. He blinked in confusion. What was the whirring noise then? He turned back over and heaved a sigh. He’d figure it out in the morning.

-Plus 1-  
(zero hours before)

Mark awoke to a lot of slapping and yelling. He groggily stared up at Ethan’s panicked face above him, pushing away his hands as his friend tried to haul him out of their makeshift bed. There was a loud beeping in his ears.

“Mark! Get up!” he shouted. “There’s a fire!”

He pushed himself upright and felt around for his glasses. “Ethan, I swear, if this is your idea of a sleepover prank-”

“No time!” His friend yanked him out of the fort with an unexpected strength and pulled him to his feet.

He inhaled smoke and things started breaking through to his sleep-fogged brain as adrenaline started pumping through his veins. He coughed as the smoke attacked his lungs, and he bent lower to the ground. Ethan grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hallway towards the stairs.

“Where are Amy and Chica?” he yelled to Ethan.

“Already out, com'on!”

They sprinted down the stairs, only to be brought up short by the sight of the living room aflame, the air thick with smoke. Mark tried to draw breath but choked instead, hacking coughs seizing his lungs. Ethan only hesitated for a moment, running halfway back up the flight of stairs to the window on the landing and breaking it open with a sharp blow from his elbow and a hiss of pain. The two removed as much glass from the frame as they could in the few seconds they had, then Ethan all but shoved him out of the window, glass scraping his sides. He tumbled down onto the grass of the back lawn, glancing up just in time to see Ethan jumping out of the way of a falling beam that crashed against the window he’d come from. He couldn’t get out that way.

“Run to the front and catch me!” his friend yelled, turning and darting back the way they’d come.

“Ethan!” he yelled, terror ripping a hole in his vocal chords. For an instant he was frozen, then instincts kicked in and he sprinted around to the front side of the house, frantically scanning the windows on the upper floors for his friend. One smashed open with a crash of falling glass as a chair sailed through it, and suddenly Amy was at the window, Ethan at her side with Chica in his arms, barking her head off and writhing in fear. His heart caught in his throat. 

He ran forward and positioned himself under the window, arms out and blood rushing in his ears as the fire roared in the background. He could see it licking the outside of the house now, a red glow silhouetting the two figures in the window. Amy jumped and he knew he would hear her scream forever, then she was in his arms and they were both tumbling to the ground head over heels. He cried out as pain erupted in a dozen places, but he lurched to his feet and scrambled back to the window, arms held out at the ready. 

A petrified golden mess of fur slammed into him from above and he smashed to the ground again, singed fur suffocating him as he fought for breath, ribs shrieking with pain. He shoved his beloved dog off of his chest and forced himself to his feet to see Ethan sprinting away from the second floor window as flames leapt across it. He screamed in despair as he disappeared deeper into the burning house, vanishing from sight as the flames hungrily chased him up to the third floor. 

He started running for the front door, but Amy grabbed him and held him back, wrapping both arms tightly around him and anchoring him in place, digging her heels into the grass as he struggled to free himself, desperate to go after him. 

One minute passed. Mark fought against Amy as tears streamed down his face, and she wrestled him to the ground, crying into his chest.

Two minutes passed. The fire greedily ate up to the roof, timbers starting to crash down as the house threatened to collapse. 

Three minutes- 

Shattered glass rained down from above, and they looked up to see Ethan leaning out of a third story window. Mark made a strangled noise of relief, which dissolved into abject fear as he took a running jump from the sill, flying over their heads and hitting the ground with a roll and a sickening crunching noise, limbs splaying out in all directions as they ran towards him. 

He heard weak coughing as he got closer, and he could see his fingers twitching jerkily. 

“Ethan!” The name ripped from his throat with horror as he saw the scorching on his friends clothes, the way his elbow bent the wrong way, the tattered threads of his cherished bracelet hanging from his horribly burned wrist. He felt a twisted sort of gratitude his glasses were missing. 

Some of their neighbors had come out of their houses. One was on the phone with 911, and another had her arms wrapped around Chica. 

Mark fell to his knees beside his friend, crying with happiness as he saw his chest rising and falling and the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips. 

“You’re alive,” he somehow got out. 

“Y-y-yeah,” his friend stuttered. “Worse f-f-for wear, but al-l-live.” He sounded worn and broken. 

“We’re going to get you to the hospital, just stay awake.”

“One of the neighbors already called,” Amy added.

Fear flashed in Ethan’s eyes. “T-t-t-too soon.” He started pushing himself up.

“No, don’t move-”

“Got t-t-to.” His voice was taking on a tinny quality. “See you s-s-soon, I p-prrrromise.”

“What’re you saying-”

Ethan staggered to his feet, broken arm swinging in a nauseating fashion. Mark stood up and reached for him, but he turned and ran down the street, almost stumbling several times but still pushing himself onwards. As he dashed away, Mark caught sight of his back and gasped. 

His friend’s shoulders were a knot of mangled parts and wires, the skin covering them melted away by the intense heat of the blaze and exposing fragile electronics to the night air. Metal glinted in the light of the fire, and Mark could see sizable dents in the skin of his back and legs where he’d hit the ground. Gears whizzed as he ran, and Mark tried to sprint after him, but his lungs and ribs painfully protested, and it felt like he couldn’t draw breath. He hopelessly watched Ethan getting further away, taking trembling steps forward as he heard sirens wailing in the distance. His bones seemed to groan as his injuries forcefully reasserted their presence, and his whole body ached. He sat down heavily on the concrete of the sidewalk, Amy collapsing beside him. They clutched each other as Ethan disappeared into the distance.

-Aftermath-  
(27 days later)

He was missing for a month.

Not missing, exactly. 

His YouTube channel stayed active, and so did his social medias; everything was saying that he was staying with his family back in Maine. In every photo and video he posted, he looked uninjured. Mark was sure he wasn’t reposting old pictures, or he’d recognize at least some of them, and he knew Ethan didn’t have a large backlog of videos to upload. He couldn’t fathom what was happening. 

For the rest of the world, it looked like Ethan was alive and well and staying in Maine, but Mark and Amy had seen him burned by the fire. He had saved their lives, and gotten himself severely injured in the process, and he hadn’t contacted them once since that night. 

Not even the neighbors seemed to be able to back up their story. Everyone who’d arrived at the scene of the fire said they hadn’t seen Ethan’s face. They thought it must have been a random guy trying to be a hero. They had delivered a report to a well-meaning policeman who probably thought they were hallucinating the face of one of their friends because of the smoke or fear, but both of them knew he was real. 

They had tried contacting his family, but hadn’t gotten any response back. It was the same with his other friends. They were worried out of their minds as they recovered from their own injuries and started to rebuild their lives. For that entire month, they didn’t hear a word. Then one sunny morning, there was a knock on the door of their temporary apartment. Mark pulled open the door and his mouth dropped open in shock. 

Ethan was on the doorstep, looking like nothing had ever happened. No burns, no scars, no blisters, even his bracelet sat in pristine condition on his wrist. 

Mark crushed him in a hug, heedless of the twinge of pain from his barely-healed ribs. Ethan warmly returned the embrace, wearing a smile so big it looked like it wanted to split his cheeks. Amy walked in from the kitchen to see who was at the door and nearly dropped the mug she was holding. The pair pulled him inside and sat him down on the sofa.

“I’m really sorry, guys,” Ethan began. “I had to get out before the paramedics arrived, and then I needed serious repairs, I was already way behind on maintenance before that, and I couldn’t contact you guys-” He buried his head in his hands. “It was a mess.”

Mark wasn’t quite sure what to say. What felt like a million questions were burning on his tongue, and he had no idea which one to ask first. Luckily, Amy cut straight to the point.

“What are you? And why didn’t you tell us?”

Ethan looked embarrassed. “I’m, uh, like a beta version of a military grade android soldier. I’m a reject from the testing process, but I was already sentient, so I get to live like a human.” He gave a soft smile. “You ever wonder why my channel symbol is a gear? I’m like a clumsy ADHD robotic Captain America. It has to stay a secret though, or I’m in huge trouble. To the public, I’m not supposed to exist yet.” He looked anxiously at them. “You won’t tell anyone else, right?”

“Oh course not,” Mark said automatically, processing this information. His friend was an android. An honest-to-goodness, sentient AI in a robot body. That had also saved his life. A lot of things that had been bugging him from the week before the fire slotted into place. But there was something else that had been eating at him. 

“The night of the fire,” he started haltingly. “You told me Amy and Chica were already outside.”

Ethan looked away. “I had to get you out. Would you have followed me if I told you the truth?”

“No,” he replied without hesitation. 

“Then there would have been no one there to catch them,” 

“Why didn’t you go out first? I could have gone after them.”

“Then you would have died,” he said simply, brooking no argument. “The skin melted off my back and I threw myself from a three story window. I can be repaired. You would be dead.”

“I thought you did die!” Mark burst out. “You vanished for a month, the last glimpse I had of you was something out of a horror movie, and we never heard another word from you. I thought you were gone.” Tears were falling now, and not just from Mark’s eyes. Ethan hugged him again.

“I’m so sorry. I tried, I really did, but they wouldn’t let me. I’m sorry. But I am so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m glad you’re alive too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of this was written at four in the morning. No, I don't have a problem. ;)  
> Why is it that I prefer reading fluff, but my heart longs to write angst?
> 
> Comments and feedback are welcomed :)


End file.
